“Zane was starting to piss him off again. Which was good, he supposed. It meant the urge to lick him all over was passing, at least.”
“What, you didn’t pack your lunch?” Ty asked sarcastically as he
shifted around in the seat and wedged himself against the door. He kicked a
foot up and propped it on the console between the two front seats.
“Sure, in my SpongeBob SquarePants lunch box. I have the thermos,
too,” Morrison shot right back.
Zane kept his mouth shut, eyes moving between the two men, and
occasionally back to the driver, who was casually paying attention.
Ty stared at the kid and narrowed his eyes further. “Spongewhat?” he
asked flatly.
Zane didn’t even try to hold back the chuckle when Morrison looked
at Ty like he’d lost his mind.
“Spongewha … you’re yanking my chain, aren’t you?” Morrison
said. “Henny, he’s yanking my chain.”
“Yeah, well, that’s what you getting for waving it in his face,” the
driver answered reasonably.
“What the hell is a SpongeBob?” Ty asked Zane quietly in the
backseat.”
“If I’d been there, I might have been able to do something. But I wasn’t, and I lost them.”
“And if you’d been there,” Ty said softly, “I would have lost you.”
“Fuck,” Zane murmured, pulling Ty closer. “You’re worse than heroin.”
“Tease,” Ty accused softly.
“Do I have your attention now?” Zane drawled.
“You never lost it,” Ty responded before thinking better of it.”
“I would have done anything. Anything to get back to you. I can’t say I’m sorry for that.”
“Ty Grady was a rude, insufferable, egotistical, stinking son of a bitch, and Zane was going to figure out how to tune him out. Otherwise, he just might give in to the pressure and kill the bastard, for the good of humanity.”
“Ty’s jeans were totally soaked and clung to him like a second skin, and Zane had to swallow hard. Jesus. “Good luck getting out of those gracefully,” he rasped with a slight smile, still leaning against the wall.
“Good luck thinking for the next hour,” Ty shot back with a smirk.
“Shit,” Zane muttered, turning into the spray to wash before leaning and shutting the water off.”
“Should I go back to my room tonight?” Ty asked out of the blue. “Or will we be able to work together and fuck each other senseless at the same time?”
“Are you getting hysterical?” Ty asked eagerly. “Can I smack you?”
“Zane looked down at him and yanked away the pillow and then all the covers. "Ty, I mean it. Do not go to sleep," he said firmly.
"Nap nazi," Ty accused miserably.”
“Zane didn’t reply immediately. After a short pause he spoke quietly.
“I’ll warn you, I’m going to be grouchy as my back really starts hurting.”
“And I’ll be on the lookout for that major change of attitude,” Ty
responded sarcastically.”
“You’re easily distracted, aren’t you?” Ty deadpanned.
“Not really,” Zane said smoothly, dragging one hand down Ty’s
chest. “I’m still focused on you.”
“Listen up, ’cause I’m only gonna say this once,” Ty muttered as they walked to their gate. “I don’t talk when I fly. I sleep. And I don’t listen when I eat, understand? I don’t wanna be buddies. I don’t wanna chat,” he said with a sarcastic lilt to the word. “I don’t wanna know about your childhood or how your momma whipped you with a rubber glove or how much therapy you had to go through ’cause you flunked out of preschool. I don’t wanna hear about how you want to be Director someday or how many collars you got chasin’ those Internet freaks or how proud you are of your bowel movements. I don’t wanna go shopping at Barney’s with you, and I’m not gonna help you pick out your ties to match your socks and, I swear to God, if you get me shot, I’ll kill you.”
“I didn’t care about anybody, even myself. And when I did….” Zane’s jaw clenched, and he kept his eyes focused on the window. Anything but on the man sitting across from him. “I let him walk away”
“Zane’s good hand flashed out and smacked Ty upside the back of the
head.
“Ow! What the hell?” Ty cried as he rubbed his head and huffed.
“You’re lucky I repress the Instakill for you,” he muttered.”
“I've never made fun of you. Making fun of you would imply that something about you is fun.”
“Rolling his eyes, Zane got on the elevator once the door opened.
“You know, at first I was insulted by the way you treat me. Then I realized
it’s not personal; you treat everyone like shit. I find it doesn’t bother me all
too much anymore,” he said.
“Usually I only don’t bother people I want to see naked,” Ty told him
seriously as the elevator rose. “So stop it. You’re freaking me out.”
“Hey, give me my gun, would you?” Zane asked as he shifted, only to wince as the skin pulled.
“Why, you planning on shooting me in the ass when I turn around?” Ty asked sarcastically as he reached for the holster.
“Tempting, but you’d probably get off on it,” Zane said, holding out his hand.”
“It was now or never. Zane took a slow, deep breath and ducked his chin, tilted his head sideways, and slid his lips firmly against Ty’s.”
“Breaking the rules is addictive, too.”
“You’re just a big softy,” he taunted. “The last person said that to me got Viagra in his coffee next morning,” Ty warned seriously.”
“You make me absolutely fucking crazy,” he said thickly. “Hate to break it to you, but I think you were there long before I came along,”
“I want you to find me, as soon as you’re free,”
“Zane swallowed hard as he slid his hand to take Ty’s and lace their
fingers together. “Are you feeling this, too?” he asked, echoing what they’d
asked each other months ago, only to have it pushed aside. But not forgotten.”
“Not everything needs to be planned, Zane,” Ty answered with a tinge of frustration. “Not everything needs a why or how.”
“Evening,” Zane greeted quietly, voice still dark with sleep. He yawned and ran his hand through his hair. The short curls were riotous. “I’m hungry.” “Ugh,” Ty groaned sleepily. “God, you’re worse than a date,” he muttered. “I have to feed you, too?”
“So, Rule Number One, apparently, was that he wasn’t allowed to crack a smile during foreplay. “Got it”
“More bungalow-type setups. Rent by the week. Artsy places,” Zane
explained. “It’s different.”
“Do I look like an artsy type to you?” Ty asked, bristling on principle.
It didn’t even faze Zane. “You look like sex on legs to me. You’ll
blend in, no problem.”
“The girl I was before this trip is dead. I’m worried who will take her place. It frightens me. I’m afraid my bitterness is bigger and will never be contained. I’m not sure I want to meet the new me.”
“All rational action is in the first place individual action. Only the individual thinks. Only the individual reasons. Only the individual acts.”
“The finest clothing made is a person's skin, but, of course, society demands something more than this.” Mark Twain”
“Don't worry, I'm shielding you. When we crashed here and it first attacked me, I was caught with my mental trousers down. Not anymore. Psychic force field's intact. Belts and braces. Braces, by the way, are very cool.”
“Can we just get it out there right now that I don’t want anything with you or from you?” I’m not going to lie; it felt like she’d punched me. But I still nodded. “I’m not looking for, or interested in, a relationship. It’s nothing against you. I just—I can’t—I don’t. Um, I—” “Rachel.” I waited until she looked up at me and again found myself wishing I could figure out what she was hiding from me. Did she have a boyfriend? Just get out of a bad relationship? “It’s fine. Nothing between us, I got it.” With a quick breath in, she nodded her head and forced a smile. “We kind of got off on the wrong foot, but since we’re going to be neighbors I’d like it if we were friends. I’m sorry for how I was toward you when I met you, and I’m sorry for the confusion this morning—can we just start over?” Only being friends with her sounded about as fun as kicking puppies right now. But this was good; I didn’t have time for a distraction and Rachel would definitely be a distraction . . . I don’t know why I even try lying to myself. The real problem was I couldn’t put Rachel in my world. I couldn’t put her in this danger, and being with her would put her right in the middle of it. So friends it was, then. “Sure,” I said softly, and watched a genuine smile cross her face. She stuck out her hand. “I’m Rachel Masters, from far West Texas.” God, she was cute. I grabbed her hand and tried to ignore the warmth coming from her body and how I wanted to lean into her, press my mouth to her neck, and breathe in the sweet scent coming from her. “Logan . . . Hendricks, from far East Texas. But you can call me Kash. It’s good to meet you, Rachel.” “You too, Kash with a K.”
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